


one, two.

by niffizzle



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bets & Wagers, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Fluff, Forgiveness, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Post-Hogwarts, Quidditch Player Draco Malfoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-04 12:20:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24849652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/niffizzle/pseuds/niffizzle
Summary: “Why don’t we strike up a deal?” Ginny proposed. “Something to get you out of your comfort zone? I’ll allow you to wear whatever style bridesmaid dress you like if you vow to agree to not one, but two dates with the next wizard who asks you out.”Hermione’s jaw dropped, indignation flaring in her chest. “I don’t even know who that will be!”Ginny grinned. “That’s half the fun.”
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 237
Kudos: 1203





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoy this short, four-part mini story that I’m super eager to share with you all! It’s already written in its entirety, so updates will be every few days. Massive thank you to mcal for pre-reading and to LightofEvolution and LadyKenz347 for their beta work.

The Rising Phoenix Pub was in a boisterous uproar — a typical scene after a Holyhead Harpies game.

“You’d think they’d save a booth for one of the players that helps bring them all this business!” Ginny remarked once they found a spot to sit after ten minutes of searching.

Ron slid into the seat across from her. “Reckon we’d stand a better chance if Harry had let us tell one of the wait staff he was here… _or_ if your team had actually won.”

Ginny shot him a glare. The sore of tonight’s loss clearly hadn’t yet healed. 

Their sibling bickering lasted a few minutes before Harry pulled Ron towards the bar to order a round of drinks, leaving Hermione with the job to quiet Ginny’s temper.

“Don’t listen to Ron,” Hermione stated once the boys were out of earshot. “He’s still jealous you’re the one who gets to play Quidditch professionally.”

“Believe me, I’m well aware.” Releasing her hair from its ponytail, Ginny collected it over one shoulder. “Honestly, the loss wouldn’t have been so bad if it wasn’t for the fact that it was against the Falcons. Now they’re ahead of us in the league.”

 _Not to mention the other issue about the Falcons_ , Hermione wanted to retort, but she held her tongue.

“Let’s forget about the game,” Hermione suggested. “Any progress on the wedding planning? It’s just under a month away now.”

The change in topic had an obvious effect on Ginny. “Aunt Muriel has finally agreed to lend me the tiara after Mum assured her there wouldn’t be any more Death Eater attacks like there had been at Bill and Fleur’s, so that’s something. Floral arrangements are nearly complete and Dad’s scheduled the renting of the marquee, but we can’t move forward on the bridesmaids’ dresses because _someone_ is being difficult!”

“All I said is that I’d prefer that they not be strapless,” Hermione promptly defended. “If you want me to dance during the reception, then I’m going to need a dress that I won’t worry about falling down.”

The debate continued like it had several times prior, Ginny insisting once again that a Sticking Charm would eliminate those concerns while Hermione countered that Sticking Charms were not intended to be cast on human skin, but Hermione’s attention was pulled elsewhere when a group of wizards came through the pub’s main door.

Clad in matching grey and black garbs, a few members of the Falmouth Falcons were greeted with a collection of cheers and boos as they made their way through the bar. Hermione tried not to look, but it had always been impossible not to notice the striking white blond hair of Draco Malfoy.

Malfoy parted from his teammates and found Harry and Ron collecting the drinks, greeting them both with a firm clap on the back.

A scowl was now painted across Hermione’s lips. “I still can’t believe you all tolerate him.”

Ginny shrugged. “Just because he plays for an opposing team doesn’t mean we can’t be friendly.”

Hermione canted her head disapprovingly, knowing full well that Ginny was being purposefully obtuse. That wasn’t the issue she’d been referring to at all. 

After taking in a long breath, Ginny released a sigh. “It’s been, what, four years now? A lot has happened since the end of the war.”

While true, that didn’t necessarily make matters easier. The bitter sting of memories past still tore at her chest — particularly when pertaining to one specific wizard.

“You haven’t even given him a chance.”

A sharp huff of air pushed past her lips, blowing a wayward curl from her face as she sank back in a petulant pout. Unlike her friends, Hermione had no intention of giving Malfoy anything, least of all a chance.

Since Ginny had been called up from the reserves to play for the Harpies, Draco Malfoy had re-entered their lives as well. It started off small with Ginny seeing him at professional Quidditch League events and then escalated when Harry began also interacting with him by association. Somewhere in there, even Ron had come to tolerate Malfoy — likely because he enjoyed the perks of knowing yet another professional Quidditch player — but Hermione hadn’t wavered. While the rest of them seemed ready to forgive the past, she had an excellent talent of holding a rightful and entirely justifiable grudge.

“Pretend for a moment he had never been a Death Eater,” Ginny deadpanned.

Scoffing, Hermione rolled her eyes. “That’s a pretty big ask.”

“Indulge me for a minute,” Ginny insisted. “Besides the fact that he was a Death Eater, what’s wrong with him?”

 _Besides_ that? If you asked Hermione, that was a difficult thing to forget, but she’d play along.

“Where to begin? He’s conceited, thinks he’s the centre of the wizarding world, and has no ability to consider anything beyond himself. He always thinks he’s right, exaggerates on the smallest of details, and has no regard or respect for others. Need I bring up the Buckbeak incident? Or the way he treated Hagrid in general?”

Hermione folded her arms against her chest, certain she had made her point, but Ginny remained undeterred.

“You only listed the things you disliked about him from when we were in school,” the witch opposed. “You’re basing your opinion on matters that occurred nearly a decade ago. Is that really fair?” Ginny shook her head as she gently snorted. “Though I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised.”

Heat prickled Hermione’s cheeks. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m merely stating that you have a tendency to make judgments about people and then refuse to see past them.”

“That’s not true!” Hermione swiftly defended. “I became friends with Luna despite my previous opinions, didn’t I?”

“And how long did that take?” Ginny challenged with a raised eyebrow. “Even so, that’s only one example. Just look at your dating life.”

The flush that stained Hermione’s cheeks now spread down her neck. “What in Good Godric does this have to do with my dating life?”

“Every time you go on a date with someone, you come back with a list of things wrong with the wizard.”

“I do not!”

“Please,” Ginny dismissed with a wave of her hand. “Remember that bloke from two weeks ago?”

“That was entirely justifiable! He showed up ten minutes late without apologising, his first comment was about how tired I looked, and he then spent half the evening defending Fudge’s actions during the first year after Voldemort’s return!”

Ginny threw up both hands in defence. “Fine, fine. That one I’ll permit, but how about all the others? The one who said he’d only read one book last year? Or the wizard who insisted on splitting your dinner entrées and serving the food onto your plate?”

“I am perfectly capable of serving my own food, thank you very much!” Hermione argued, remembering all too well the way the wizard had repeatedly dished the pasta onto her plate despite her continued protests _and_ the bowl being closer to _her._

Thankfully, Harry and Ron had finally returned with their drinks — Malfoy no longer in sight.

“Uh oh,” Ron said as he settled in the seat next to Hermione, handing her a mug of mead. “I remember that look. That’s the look you used to give me whenever I left my dirty plate on the table after dinner. What’d you do, Gin?”

Ginny chuckled. “Just reminiscing on Hermione’s short lived lovers and what she considered so unforgivably wrong with all of them.”

“Classic,” Ron said with a chortle. “Have you gotten to me yet?”

“No, but I’m sure we could discuss you next if you’d prefer,” Ginny responded with a taunting grin.

Hermione had had enough. “So I have high standards! What’s so wrong with that?”

“There’s nothing wrong with high standards,” Harry chimed in. “I think we’re all just noticing that perhaps you don’t give blokes a decent chance before dismissing them as possibilities.”

“I—”

Ginny cut her off before she could defend herself further.

“When’s the last time you went on a second date?”

Hermione opened her mouth to retort but found the answer more difficult to recall than anticipated.

“It’s been a few months,” she conceded through a tight jaw. “But it’s not as though that’s a big deal.”

A shine now glinted in Ginny’s conniving gaze. “Why don’t we strike up a deal?” the witch proposed. “Something to get you out of your comfort zone?”

Already, Hermione didn’t like where this seemed to be going, but she didn’t protest. Not yet at least.

“I’ll allow you to wear whatever style bridesmaid dress you like _if_ you vow to agree to not one, but _two_ dates with the next wizard who asks you out.”

Hermione’s jaw dropped, indignation flaring in her chest. “I don’t even know who that will be!”

Ginny grinned. “That’s half the fun.”

“And what if he’s a murderer?”

Ron seemed equally amused. “Then it will be an interesting tale.”

A temporary silence hung over the table as Hermione considered the deal, but it appeared Ginny had grown impatient.

“Unless you’d rather admit that you’re too picky when it comes to dating?”

Hermione would _never_ admit that.

Thrusting her palm between them, Ginny promptly took it and the two shook hands. Harry sealed their deal with a Binding Vow Charm and magic curled around their joined hands. She just hoped that whatever wizard asked her out next wasn’t a complete and utter bore.

~*~*~

The afternoon skies were clear, permitting a shining summer sun. Hermione strolled down Diagon to complete some shopping; she picked up a few books at Flourish and Blotts, replenished her stock of necessary potion ingredients at the Apothecary, and was now at Quality Quidditch Supplies to find a present for Harry’s upcoming birthday celebration.

She was perusing the selection of gloves when she felt a tall presence approach from behind. Shivers travelled down her spine, her body somehow sensing who it was.

“My, my. What a surprise.”

The drawl of his voice was as smooth as ever, and Hermione spun on her heels to frown at him.

“And how predictable to find you in here,” she retorted, giving Malfoy a single once-over before grabbing a random pair of gloves from the shelf. “If you’ll excuse me, I was just leaving.” 

She was heading towards the checkout counter when Malfoy called after her. “He’s not going to want those.”

Hermione froze.

“Those gloves are better for Chasers, with grips that are designed to maintain a firm hold on a Quaffle — not very beneficial for someone who plays Seeker.”

She turned back around, an eyebrow now raised. “Who said they’re for a Seeker?”

Malfoy simply chuckled. “Always so defensive, aren’t you? But unless you’ve recently picked up a new hobby, I presume these are your present for Potter’s birthday celebration this weekend.”

Her stomach sank. “You’re invited?”

“You can’t be that surprised,” he countered before taking a step towards her. “In case you haven’t noticed, you seem to be the only one among your friends who still maintains their disdain for me.”

The muscles in Hermione’s shoulders stiffened. He seemed to be waiting for her to say something on the matter, but her lips remained closed. 

Eventually, she opted to change the subject instead. “Then which gloves do you recommend for him?” she tightly asked.

Malfoy returned to the shelves and perused the selection before electing a pair on the top right. 

“These ought to be the best. They’re a thinner material which will provide increased ease of movement as well as being more aerodynamic.”

He held them out to Hermione, and she gave him a curt, “Thank you,” before proceeding back towards the counter.

“See you Saturday!” he called after her.

Hermione said nothing in return.

~*~*~

Harry’s birthday celebration was small that year. There was no need to make it much larger when his and Ginny’s wedding was only a handful of weeks later. Ron was of course in attendance, along with George, Neville, Luna, and a few other members of the old Dumbledore’s Army.

And Malfoy.

“It was one thing for him to get invited, but another thing for him to actually come,” Hermione complained to Neville while they grabbed a slice of cake from the kitchen of Grimmauld Place.

Neville rested a fork on his plate. “I don’t know, Hermione,” he said with a sheepish shrug. “He’s not all bad.”

Hermione’s jaw slackened. “You must be joking. Not you too!”

Neville merely shrugged again before taking a bite from his cake. “Clearly he’s trying to make amends for what he did. Why else would he have stopped by my greenhouse to apologise?”

“He _what?”_ Hermione gaped at Neville in disbelief. “When did that happen?”

He scratched the back of his head. “A couple months back now — probably early May? Yeah, that’s when it was. Right after the anniversary of the final battle. He came in as my store was about to close for the day then asked if we could talk. Said he was sorry about everything his aunt had done to my parents and for making so much fun of me when we were younger. He even gave me a new, enhanced Remembrall that actually tells you _what_ you forgot!”

Her thoughts were a scramble as she tried to comprehend what she was hearing. _Malfoy_ had done all that?

“That’s wonderful, Neville,” she stated aloud, though she could tell she had done a terrible job of masking the tinge of resentment that coloured her tone.

Neville picked up on it instantly, his eyebrows furrowing. “Has he not apologised to you?”

Malfoy’s pointy features and white blond locks taunted her from beyond the open crack of the kitchen doorway.

“Not a word.”

~*~*~

The next half hour was spent jumping from guest to guest as Hermione learned more about everyone else’s interactions with Malfoy over the past few months. He had apparently expressed his condolences to George for Fred’s death, donated to _The Quibbler_ as his penance for Luna’s time spent captive in the Manor, and apologised to Harry for, well, _everything_.

It appeared all the other guests had been privy to the remorse of the prideful Draco Malfoy. 

All of them except her.

Anger rippled in Hermione’s chest as she saw him casually speaking with Ginny.

She’d had enough.

Hermione crossed the room in a few long strides and closed her fingers around his elbow, tugging Malfoy away from his conversation and into an adjacent room.

“If you wanted to spend alone time with me, all you had to do was ask,” he groused through a sneer when Hermione had finally released her firm hold around his wrist.

Hermione offered a sharp glare in return. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Well, I _was_ enjoying Potter’s birthday until you decided to ruin it.”

“Not that,” she fumed, lips flattening into a grimace. “It has come to my attention that you have made it a point to apologise to everyone else in there, and yet here we stand, no different than we did four years ago.” She glared at him. “Am I not worthy of a stop on your apology tour? Or are you remorseful of everything else you did _except_ for your treatment towards me?”

“You think I haven’t _tried?”_ he barked in response. “It’s rather difficult to express any feelings I have when you can hardly stand to _look_ at me whenever we’re in vicinity of each other. Or would you have preferred I shout it across the tables of the Rising Phoenix last weekend? Or perhaps at the Quidditch shop for everyone else in the store to overhear?”

Hermione blinked, surprised to learn he had even tried. “An owl would have sufficed,” she voiced, but her response was met with a derisive scoff.

“Be honest, Granger. Anything I wrote to you would have gone directly into flames.” 

Hermione maintained her resolve, but on the inside, she felt a small twist in her stomach. He wasn’t wrong.

“Scowl at me all you want, but I didn’t approach you because I knew any words I had to say would fall upon deaf ears,” Malfoy stated more calmly this time. “But if you’re ready to finally listen, how about you and I get drinks sometime this week? Just the two of us?”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “That almost sounds like a date.”

Malfoy rested on the corner of a table and lifted a casual shoulder. “Depends on how you choose to interpret it.”

Her sharp scoff cut through the air. “Please, I’d rather get hit by a Bludger than get hit on by you.”

An unfamiliar tinge radiated from Hermione’s right hand and her stomach dropped as she made the connection.

 _The Binding Vow she had made with Ginny_.

While his words left room for interpretation, it seemed the vow had made the decision for her.

Hermione’s brain fell into a frenzy. Of all the wizards in Britain to ask her out next, why did it have to be _Malfoy?_ Drinks with him once to get the apology she deserved would be painful enough. But to have to meet with him twice _?_

Sure, she could tell him no. That was certainly an option. But then she’d have to admit defeat to Ginny — something the stubbornness inside Hermione did _not_ want to do.

And then a loophole came to her. 

This wasn’t _really_ a date. Or at least, not a romantic one. According to the terms of the vow, all she had to do was _“agree”_ to a second date. If Malfoy never asked — which he undoubtedly wouldn’t — then Hermione was in the clear. She could get her apology _and_ the bridesmaid dress design she preferred.

“Fine,” she submitted. “We can have _one_ drink together on Thursday night.”

Malfoy faintly snorted. “Don’t act like I’m forcing you into it.”

_If only he knew._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, goodness! I am completely overwhelmed by the response to the first chapter! Thank you ALL for reading, and I hope you enjoy this next installment :)
> 
> Love again to the fabulous mcal, LightofEvolution, and LadyKenz347 for their alpha/beta support

Thursday evening came, and Hermione met Malfoy at one of the restaurants on a tangential street to Diagon Alley. She arrived directly at seven and was mildly surprised to see Malfoy already waiting for her at the bar.

Spotting her entrance, Malfoy stood from his chair and pulled out the one next to him for Hermione to join. When she scanned her eyes over the bar area, she couldn’t help but notice that he had waited before getting a drink — something she’d experienced the opposite of on multiple first dates.

 _Not that this is a date,_ she unnecessarily reminded herself.

“You look lovely,” he said once they had placed their order with the barkeep.

Hermione wrinkled her nose. “You needn’t shower me with false compliments.”

“Who said anything about them being false?” Malfoy coolly countered. “It’s just an observation. I hardly ever see you in a dress. And whatever you did to your hair… It’s nice.”

Hermione impulsively reached for the curls she had relaxed with a dollop of Sleekeazy's Hair Potion, unable to help the blush that inched up her cheeks. She had admittedly put some effort into her look that evening — more to prove to Malfoy that she _could_ more than anything. But it never hurt to hear those efforts appreciated.

The mild calm the moment had provided her quickly evaporated when she fully remembered who she was seated next to and why they were here.

Their drinks arrived, and mercifully, Malfoy didn’t stall.

“I suppose I’ll get straight to it,” he said after clearing his throat. “There’s no better way to start this than by saying how much I truly regret my actions when we were younger.”

Hermione cast her gaze downward, shoulders tense as she peered into her muddled reflection in her drink while Malfoy continued.

“When I was younger, I blindly followed what my father told me to believe, not considering anything beyond what had been instilled in me since birth. And while you challenged those misaligned beliefs with every breath and move you made, I remained adamant, too obstinate to let it affect my viewpoint… until it was too late.”

Hermione filled her lungs before momentarily shifting her glance in his direction, not yet sure how much she believed him. “What finally changed?”

“I realised how expendable Voldemort considered me. My life was no more important to him because I was a pureblood. I was a pawn for his personal gains. Nothing about me was better than others — not even my blood.”

She turned her head and blinked. His elbows rested on the bartop in front of his untouched drink, back hunched as he tucked his chin towards his neck.

Vulnerable. _Honest._

He was nothing like the smug picture she’d maintained in her head.

“I know they’re just words, and words can’t undo actions,” he said, a visible swallow travelling down his throat, “but I wanted you to at least hear that. It’s long overdue.”

Hermione grabbed the thin black straw in her drink and swirled it around the ice cubes. 

“You weren’t the worst of them,” she softly stated, sharing in his openness. “But your involvement stung the most because you _knew_ us. Friends or not, you were our classmate.”

“I know,” Malfoy said with a choke. “Which is part of the reason why I didn’t want to identify you in my drawing room.” He drew in a slow breath. “I was a conceited, disrespectful prat, but if you give me the opportunity to prove myself like the rest of your friends have, I think you’ll find me much different now.”

His head tilted so he was facing her, grey eyes peering her way without a single trace of insincerity. Apprehension still twisted her insides, but Hermione didn’t leave.

She had agreed to one drink with Malfoy, and she would stick to that agreement.

“And just how do you suggest we overcome the mountain of strife that is our past?” Hermione asked.

Something seemed to relax in Malfoy as he straightened himself upright, the slightest quirk pulling at the corner of his lips. 

“Grab your glass, Granger. I believe this situation calls for a drinking game.”

For the better part of the next hour, she and Malfoy remained in their seats, taking turns sharing a sip of their respective drink before one of them asked a question that both of them had to answer truthfully. Of course, there was no way for Hermione to tell whether or not Malfoy was telling the truth, but after his raw sincerity at the beginning, she didn’t doubt any of his answers.

_“Worst class at Hogwarts?”_

“Divination. I don’t care if it turned out Trelawney was actually a Seer. The rest of her class was rubbish!”

“Ah, but at least that subject was optional. Can you believe they forced us through so many years of Professor Binns’ boring lectures?”

_“If you could have any career, what would it be?”_

“Professional Quidditch player, of course.”

“Oh, besides that! You can’t play sports forever.”

“Then I still have time to decide.”

“That’s a cop-out!”

“If you aren’t satisfied with my answer you don’t have to answer either.”

“This feels like cheating.”

“Look at you! Trying new things!”

_“Say something about Potter and Weasley you dislike.”_

“Not fair. That’s a _much_ easier question for you to answer.”

“Fine, you say something you dislike and I’ll say something I _like_.”

“You go first. I’m not about to give you fodder without something to use against you in return.”

“Careful, Granger. You’re beginning to sound like a secret Slytherin. But if I must answer, I suppose I could say I respect their loyalty to their friends and whatever cause they’re presently passionate about. Now you go before I have to linger on that sentiment too long.”

“Honestly, they’re two of the laziest boys I have ever met. Do you know how many times I had to complete their homework for them?”

“Oh, I can only imagine.”

The night continued on, and Hermione didn’t protest when Malfoy ordered them another round. Eventually, towards the end of their second drink, she built up to the question she’d been wondering since Harry’s birthday party.

“Why did you wait four years before making amends with us?”

He took in a deep breath. “Because I had to make amends with myself first.”

Any remaining resentment Hermione had felt towards him seemed to finally fade, just as Malfoy down the rest of his drink.

“Enough melancholy,” he announced, stepping down from his barstool and gesturing for Hermione to do the same. “It’s time for us to do something fun.”

Hermione blinked. “Now? But it’s already getting late and I have work tomorrow.”

“Trust me,” Malfoy said with a grin. “I think you’ll like it.”

~*~*~

_“No.”_

“Yes.”

“Not a chance. You’ve been drinking!”

“It was two beers,” Malfoy dismissed. “My tolerance is higher than that.”

Hermione stared at the broomstick in his hand. She didn’t enjoy flying under the best circumstances, and yet he expected her to ride behind him to some unknown destination? Though, admittedly, part of her _was_ curious where he intended to take them…

Apprehension clenching her chest, she boarded the broom behind Malfoy, reluctantly wrapping her arms around his torso. 

“Hold tight, Granger,” he said, peering back at her with a grin. “This broom goes fast.”

With a jolt, Malfoy kicked off the ground, and they were immediately airborne. A rough patch of air interrupted their ascent, and Hermione instinctively tightened her embrace while Malfoy merely chuckled. Clever retorts danced on her tongue at the expense of his flying skills, but they all fell silent when the dazzling sight of street lights captured her attention. 

So rarely she had flown over London at night — and most certainly not at this height — and the landscape was truly mesmerising. As easy as that, her worries blew away.

He directed them over the city and along the River Thames until their speed began to slow. Reaching their supposed destination, Malfoy directed his broom hundreds of feet above the water, landing gracefully atop one of the walkways that connected the twin towers of Tower Bridge.

The moment they were safely grounded, Hermione released her hold on Malfoy. She hadn’t realised how much her heart had been pounding until it was no longer muffled by her firm press against his back. 

Malfoy didn’t say a word, a fact Hermione was grateful for. Instead, she got to take in the view of the London skyline, the river flowing beneath them under the bridge. A gentle breeze swept over them, and Hermione drifted her eyes shut, allowing the hum of the night to fill her ears. 

When she reopened them, Hermione noticed that Malfoy had taken a seat, his legs now dangling over the edge towards the watery depths. Meeting her gaze, he gave his head a subtle jerk and patted the spot beside him for Hermione to join.

“It’s so serene up here,” Hermione commented once she had made herself comfortable. An unexpected gust of wind passed and she had to brush her fingers through her hair to relocate the strands that had blown into her face.

Malfoy planted two hands behind himself and leaned back. “This is where I used to come when I needed a solitary space to process,” he said after a deep breath. “It was here I came to terms with my faults and resolved that it was time to make matters right — or at the very least, better.”

An expanse of glittering diamonds was spread across the cloudless summer night sky, yet all Hermione could focus on was the wizard next to her. Under the veil of night, his pale skin wasn’t quite as stark and his hair was aglow in the moonlight. The face she was so accustomed to finding a scowl plastered upon wasn’t half as harsh, the frown and narrowed gaze now replaced with a flat line and contemplative eyes. He was pensive. Composed.

“You really _have_ changed.”

The rigidity of his posture loosened, and his head turned to reveal the slim crack of a smile. “Took me a while, but it happened eventually.”

Silence fell over them for the next several minutes, but it wasn’t for lack of conversation. She got the sense that Malfoy, like her, didn’t want to break the peacefulness. For the first time ever, there was no strain between them. It was calming.

After a while, he pushed himself back to standing and reached a hand out for Hermione.

“It’s getting late,” he announced. “Let me fly you home.”

~*~*~

Their ride back was another silent endeavour, and when they landed in front of Hermione’s building, Malfoy walked with her to her front door. Once again, Hermione’s heart was beating to an odd cadence despite no longer being on the broom.

“Thank you for tonight,” she said, reaching into her beaded bag for her wand, surprised by how much she genuinely meant that statement. “I appreciate your apology, and the rest of the night wasn’t bad either.”

“' _Wasn’t bad?’”_ Malfoy tucked his hands into his pockets and snorted. “Is that all I’m going to get from you?”

Hermione couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “What exactly did you expect? A goodnight kiss?”

He smirked, and her heart rate began to escalate. “Is that what you’d _like_ right now?”

An immediate heat prickled Hermione’s cheeks and neck. “Obviously not,” she snapped. “I—”

But Malfoy was now chuckling, a genuine smile stretching across his lips. “Don’t worry, Granger, I have no intentions of kissing you,” he said, grin still stretching wide. “As _‘not bad’_ of an evening as this was, I don’t kiss on the first date, so you’ll just have to wait for the second one.”

He shot her a quick wink, and it wasn’t until his broom was back in his grip that Hermione fully processed what he had said.

“Wait!” she shouted after him. “Who said anything about a second date?”

Malfoy spun to walk backwards as he returned, “Second date. Next Wednesday. Unless you object?”

Even from a distance, she could see the playful raise of his eyebrow and his devious grin, as if he was daring her to say ‘no.’ But of course, if Hermione wanted to win her deal with Ginny, she couldn’t. 

Though, admittedly, the idea of a second date wasn’t as offensive as she originally anticipated.

“Next Wednesday it is.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again to all your lovely readers and to my alpha/beta team mcal, LightofEvolution, and LadyKenz347. Now, onto that second date :)

She and Ginny were seated at a small cafe on Diagon that next Saturday when Hermione finally broached the subject.

“I went on my first date on Thursday for your stupid vow.”

Ginny set down her fork, clearly no longer as interested in her next bite. “Oh? So let’s hear it then. What’s wrong with him?”

Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. She paused for several moments, letting the memories of the evening from two nights prior replay in her mind. Ginny waited, assessing Hermione with an all-too-pleased expression.

“What’s this?” the witch teased. “Am I sensing that you had no complaints?” 

“Oh, I have plenty,” Hermione impulsively retorted. “I’m just trying to think of something I haven’t previously told you about him.”

Ginny rested her elbows on the table and leaned in closer. “So it’s someone we know?”

“Yes,” Hermione admitted. She sucked in a breath and prepared for the reaction. “Draco Malfoy.”

Ginny seemed to fight a smile as long as she could, but it hardly lasted three seconds before a taunt came out. “You were so afraid the bloke might be a murderer, but instead he’s just an attempted one.”

Hermione canted her head and glared. 

“So,” Ginny pressed on, smile still beaming, “how bad was it?”

Hermione pushed around the food on her plate, refusing to meet Ginny’s eyes. “Actually, it wasn’t bad,” she confessed, feeling a faint flush heat her cheeks. “Not the worst first date I’ve ever been on.”

Ginny appeared pleased, but thankfully, the witch was smart enough not to let the conversation last any longer on the topic. The fact that Hermione hadn’t actually said anything negative spoke volumes. 

Not to mention that she had just admitted to herself that they really had been on a date...

~*~*~

An owl with details for their date had arrived at Hermione’s window that Monday afternoon, and that next Wednesday after work, Hermione found herself anxiously flipping through the clothes in her closet. There was no reason for her to be putting this much thought into her outfit — they were just going to the Leaky Cauldron — and yet, she felt a twist in her stomach at the very thought.

A week ago, all she had wanted out of her evening with Malfoy was an apology. She had gotten that within the first ten minutes. Yet her original plan to endure the rest of the night had slipped from focus once she and Malfoy had truly started talking, and by the end of the night, their evening together had been rather enjoyable. She now understood why everyone else seemed to tolerate him.

But ‘tolerate’ was different than agreeing to go on a second date — even if he had no idea about the deal she had made with Ginny.

Hermione pulled out one of her blouses she typically wore to work, only giving it a moment’s consideration before returning the hanger to the rod. Why couldn’t she just pick a top? She was only doing this to prove to her friends that she was capable of going on a second date with someone — even Malfoy — and get the bonus of selecting the bridesmaid’s dress design she preferred.

But with each different top she returned to her closet, the more difficult it became to accept that there could be another reason.

Eventually, she settled on a relatively plain black top with small lines of lace around the hem and a slightly modest neckline. It was the best thing she owned.

The pattering feet of nervous Pixies danced inside her stomach as she arrived outside the Leaky Cauldron, but they calmed when she discovered what was happening there that night.

She bowed her head and chuckled to herself. It was a clever date idea.

The pub was crowded, filled with witches and wizards seated with their teams. Off in the corner, Hermione spotted Malfoy, who had a parchment for the first round already waiting at their table.

“Trivia night,” Hermione said with a smile as she took her seat across from him. “How unexpected.”

Malfoy grinned, appearing quite pleased. “I figured we should take advantage of the unprecedented partnering of two of Hogwarts’ brightest minds. So how about it? Ready to show all these brainless Billywigs the unmatched brilliance of Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy?”

And they did just that. Round after round, Hermione and Malfoy answered the questions with flawless ease. On the rare occasion that there was a question Hermione was uncertain about, Malfoy was there for the assist. Knowledge about Quidditch was _not_ her expertise.

When the final round came, Hermione was on the edge of her seat, awaiting the question that would determine whether or not they secured their win. The last question was worth double the value of the other rounds, and the second place team could still catch up.

Hermione bounced in her seat, tapping her finger at the empty line demanding their response.

“Elladora Ketteridge,” she whispered. “It has to be Elladora Ketteridge. I remember reading about it in an essay for one of our Herbology papers.”

But Malfoy was shaking his head. “I’m certain it’s Beaumont Marjoribanks. I may not have paid attention during History of Magic, but I’ll never forget staring at that bust next to Binn’s desk while waiting for class to end.”

Hermione frowned. “No, _he_ merely discovered the Gillyweed plant. It was Ketteridge who discovered its properties, even if it was by accident!”

The announcer’s amplified voice boomed through the pub, Hermione only partially listening as he repeated the question before announcing that their answers were due within the next minute.

“We need to put down an answer _._ Trust me, Malfoy! The answer is Ketteridge!”

Her cheeks were red, determined she had the right answer. Yet, for some reason, Malfoy was now laughing.

“Your laughter won’t help us,” she retorted. “If we don’t get this correct, there’s a chance we’ll lose, and I don’t intend to lose!”

Malfoy merely shook his head, amusement plain on his face. “Did you not re-listen to the question?” he said, now grinning. “‘ _Name one of the two witches or wizards credited with the discovery of Gillyweed and its magical properties?’_ We’ve spent the last three minutes debating, when I’m now certain you and I have come up with _both_ correct answers.”

Hermione sat silent, argument now defeated. They were both right.

Chuckling to himself, she watched as Malfoy picked up their quill and scribed their final response: _Elladora Ketteridge._

He flicked his wand to fold the parchment into an aeroplane and cast it to the trivia host. He had opted to use her answer. It seemed minor, but there was something more significant behind his action. Despite all the debating, he trusted her intellect and was willing to concede even when his answer was technically also correct. Back at school, such a measure would have been inconceivable. 

When she looked at Malfoy now, it was with new eyes. Not that she hadn’t been seeing him differently since their first night together. But now, there was a stirring inside of her as she peered at the wizard seated across the table, no longer the inconsiderate boy she had known in childhood. 

“What’s that look for?” he asked.

Hermione hadn’t realised her expression had shifted, revealing any indication of her thoughts, but she found that she didn’t mind.

She smiled. “Am I not allowed to admire the man I’m on a date with?”

She playfully kicked his leg below the table, and he grinned.

“By all means, be my guest.”

~*~*~

“I still can’t believe you gave that team our victory reward!”

Huffs of laughter filled the surrounding evening air as they walked down the pavement. 

“A voucher for a single Galleon to be used on a future tab at the Leaky Cauldron?” Malfoy mockingly scoffed. “Well worth the priceless expression on that other team’s face when they realised who they had gotten second place to.”

They continued to stroll down the streets back towards Hermione’s flat, easy conversation flowing between them as swiftly as the cool night breeze. At some point, Malfoy had reached for her hand and she had accepted without hesitation. It was equally easy.

When they arrived outside her building, she turned to Malfoy, fingers still twined together.

“You really needn’t have walked me home,” she said, taking a step closer. “I could have Apparated.”

Malfoy snorted. “You’ve been drinking.”

“Only two beers,” she playfully teased. “My tolerance is higher than that.”

He chuckled, no doubt recognising his words from their first date.

The soft whistle of summer wind brushed past them, and Malfoy lifted a hand to sweep away some of the strands of hair that had fallen into Hermione’s face. She knew her eyes were bright and wide as she looked at him, undoubtedly matching the same sparkle she saw in the mercurial irises that peered back at her.

“So, the end of our second date,” he said, a smile building.

Hermione’s teeth met her lip, giving the soft flesh a gentle graze before nodding.

It was Malfoy who now stepped closer, their chests mere inches apart. 

The delicate touch of his fingertips graced the curve of her chin, spurring a flutter in Hermione’s chest. It was as though the warmth of his touch spread through her like Fiendfyre, igniting every sensation in its wake. Hammering heartbeats pounded against her ribcage, and when he leaned in to connect their lips, all other thoughts vacated her mind.

The kiss was brief, little more than the brush of his lips against hers. But even that was enough to electrify sparks. For months, Hermione had gone on a long string of one-off dates, and not a single one had stirred anything remotely close to this sensation. In fact, she couldn’t remember the last time _anyone_ had prompted such a response. Which was why, when he started to pull away, Hermione grabbed him by the fabric of his shirt and deepened their connection for a second kiss.

It was intoxicating, like every kiss before this had been a waste. Years of resentment towards each other should have made this feel wrong, and yet it felt so right. And based on the urgent way Malfoy had wrapped his arms around her waist, desperately pressing their bodies together, it appeared he felt it too. 

His lips and tongue stole the oxygen from her lungs, leaving her head in a blissful daze. A small voice in the back of her mind warned her to stop, that this was only a second date and they should consider moving slower, but the lioness in her chest refused to listen. Instead, she advanced further, brushing the palm over his chest through the fabric of his shirt, hastening her desire to explore the skin hidden beneath.

Logic and reasoning slipped from consciousness, giving way to sentiment and desire. A lump in her throat, Hermione stepped back from his hold and laced their hands together. Temporary confusion painted his features, but when Hermione motioned them towards the building’s front door, he understood the silent invitation.

Within minutes, they were in the privacy of her flat, lips once again pressed together as she sat atop his lap on the sofa. One hand kept a grip on her waist while the other rested on the back of her neck. Hermione immersed herself in the passion of their connection, lacing her fingers through the soft strands of his hair before they started to wander to the buttons of his shirt. 

One by one, she freed the top few buttons, only stopping when the white-hot path of his lips travelling up the column of her neck distracted her. Her head dipped back, a sharp intake of breath stuttering inside her lungs. His mouth had found the sensitive skin just below her jaw and started to tease it with the tip of his tongue. 

In her distraction, Hermione hadn’t noticed that Malfoy’s hands had slipped under the hem of her shirt, now teasing her bare skin. His fingertips danced along her waist, leaving gooseflesh wherever his touch had been. The constant presence of his lips paused for a moment, but only long enough for Malfoy to meet her gaze, another silent question now hung between them. 

She gave him a nod and raised her arms, allowing Malfoy to slip off her blouse. Her breath came in shallow pants when the top fell to the ground and the heat of his mouth found the curve of her breast. He mapped kisses along the edge of her bra and her mind wandered with possibilities. Rational thought once again fought its way to the forefront, but it was fighting a losing battle. 

She raised his mouth from her flesh and sealed their lips together in a bruising kiss. When she pulled away, she nipped at his earlobe, breath ghosting over his ear. “Touch me,” she softly whispered.

Hermione leaned back, letting her hands slip to the latch of her bra. The echo of her racing heart rippled in her eardrums, about to undo the clasp, when Malfoy’s grip stopped her.

“Wait,” he said, face crumpling. “I— I can’t keep doing this.”

A wave of disappointment coursed through her, tinged with embarrassment. She should have known she was taking things too far. The man said he didn’t kiss on the first date. How far did she expect to go on the second?

“There’s something you should know first.”

Hermione blinked, not expecting that to be the next thing out of his lips, but before she could guess what he was hiding, the confession came. 

“I know about the Binding Vow.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love one final time to mcal, LightofEvolution, and LadyKenz347 for their support with this story. And a massive thank you to all of you reading! Now onto the final chapter :)

She pushed herself off of him. “You what?”

A storm of thoughts thundered inside Hermione’s head. If Malfoy knew about the Binding Vow, that meant he knew she hadn’t agreed to this evening under completely honest pretences. 

Their first date had been based on a resolution of the past through frank candour, only for Hermione to withhold her initial motive. Did he think she was only doing this as a part of the vow? But that wasn’t true. She had _wanted_ to go on a second date with him, regardless of the vow. 

Yet when Hermione assessed the wizard before her, it wasn’t uncertainty that plagued him. It was apprehension. 

He was nervous about how _she_ would react.

The implication struck her.

“When did you find out?” she asked, all warmth gone from her voice.

His eyes refused to meet her gaze. “The night you made it. At the Rising Phoenix.”

She gaped. “Were you _eavesdropping?!”_

“Of course not!” he snapped in defence. “The rest of the Falcons had gotten a table only a few away from yours. It’s not my fault you Gryffindors have always been a loud bunch.”

Hermione ignored his retort about her house; her focus was elsewhere. 

“All this time, you knew?” she pressed, resentment starting to flare inside her chest. “You consciously decided to ask me to drinks, _knowing_ I couldn’t say no to you?”

Malfoy frowned. “You always had the option of saying no,” he firmly stated. “And taking advantage of the terms of your vow seemed like the only way to get you to sit down and listen to my apology.”

“Once a Slytherin, always a Slytherin,” Hermione said through a sneer before crossing her arms against her chest.

It was only then that she realised that she was still only half-dressed. She promptly snatched her blouse off the floor and yanked it back over her head.

“Yes, well, I did what I thought had to be done,” he retorted, little remorse in his tone. “I didn’t originally intend to do anything with the information. And considering how icy you were at Quality Quidditch Supplies, I thought there was a solid chance you’d still refuse, even if someone else hadn’t already asked you out.”

He shifted his attention into the distance, giving his head a subtle shake. “All I wanted was a single night to apologise. Properly. Perhaps resolve enough between us so you could tolerate me like the rest of your friends. But after the night we had together...” He turned and met her gaze. “I didn’t want it to stop at one date.”

A mixture of emotions churned in Hermione’s stomach. While it had taken her a little longer to accept her feelings, she hadn’t wanted it to stop there either.

She wanted to be upset with him for tricking her, but it wasn’t as though she was faultless. She hadn’t been transparent either. 

They were both wrong. But that didn’t make what he had done right.

She turned her back to him, head hung low. “I think you should go.”

She could hear him start to protest, but he stopped himself before any more words came out.

His departing footsteps were the only sound that cut through the silence that enveloped the room. That is, until he presumably reached the door and his words fell upon her ears one last time.

“For what it’s worth, you’ll look brilliant in whatever bridesmaid dress you wear.”

He left, and a single tear shed down Hermione’s cheek.

~*~*~

The next couple weeks were a blur after that. Hermione buried herself in piles of parchment, blocking out all personal matters and concentrating solely on work. In the countdown to the wedding, she had successfully avoided having to speak with Ginny about how she and Malfoy had ended things — until Ginny asked if they were going to be attending the wedding together.

 _No, they were not_.

On a hot day in mid-August, Hermione stood in Ginny’s childhood bedroom, watching as the other witch admired her tiara-adorned reflection. The ceremony was set to start in a few minutes, and Ginny looked radiant. Her pearl white dress affixed with lace from Molly’s own wedding dress was one of the prettiest wedding dresses Hermione had ever seen, but it was her beaming smile that made Ginny glow the most. 

Soon she’d be married to her best friend after years of dating. Meanwhile, Hermione couldn’t make it through two dates before things fell apart.

Hermione tried to withhold the hint of jealousy that started to stir inside of her. It was nothing Ginny or Harry had done wrong. Not even Ron. Some people just weren’t meant for each other. But was it really that hard for Hermione to find someone as well? 

The question toiled inside her mind as her eyes drifted out the window of the Burrow for at least the tenth time in the past five minutes. As expected, Ron was still greeting guests outside the orchard before they made their way to the marquee. Only now, a pale haired wizard was chatting with him.

A disconcerted feeling settled in Hermione’s gut. She assumed he would be attending, but that didn’t make seeing him any easier.

“Are you finally going to tell me what happened during that second date?”

Hermione flicked her attention from the Borrow’s backyard, now confronted by Ginny’s raised eyebrow.

The soon-to-be bride flashed a taunting grin. “You had to know I’d ask eventually.”

Moving away from the window, Hermione plopped down on the corner of Ginny’s childhood bed and sighed. “After his apology, I thought we had built a level of trust between us, but now I’m not sure.”

Ginny immediately sombered. “What did Malfoy do?”

Her tone was accusatory, as though ready to forget all reconciliation made between the two Quidditch players for the sake of her friend, but that wouldn’t be entirely fair.

“It— It wasn’t just him,” Hermione admitted, moving the fabric of her (not strapless) bridesmaid’s dress through her thumb and forefinger. “The blame could be placed on both of us really.”

Ginny sat next to Hermione and addressed her friend softly. “Relationships aren’t always going to be easy,” she said. “You can make lists about everything wrong with an individual upon first meeting them, while being blind to the potential hiding underneath. It’s not about being picky or even having high standards. It’s about opening yourself up to new possibilities.”

“Says the witch about to marry the wizard she’s had a crush on since she was ten!”

They both laughed.

“Alright, fine, that is true,” Ginny conceded, the lightness now returned to her voice. “But I believe I have a certain witch to thank for telling me that I needed to be open to dating other people and be more of myself around Harry. And look, it worked! So it’s time for me to now return the favour. If you think there’s potential, then you have to work for it. Trust can be salvaged if you’re both willing to put in the effort.”

Ginny gave Hermione’s knee a squeeze.

“I know it may be difficult for you to do, but try not to overthink this one?”

Hermione offered her a half-smile. She could try.

~*~*~

Golden lanterns illuminated the reception space as the low drum of chatter filled the marquee. Twenty-plus tables had been crammed into the space to account for all the guests — including one guest in particular Hermione had yet to speak with that evening.

Since the end of the ceremony, Hermione had been busy with her various bridesmaid’s obligations, leaving their only interaction to be the brief moment their eyes had met when Hermione had walked down the aisle in front of Ginny and Arthur. It had lasted less than a second, yet Hermione was immediately reminded of the way his grey eyes had shined in the moments leading up to their first kiss. 

She’d torn her gaze away before the memory distracted her from the ceremony, but the fluttering feeling had remained. Weeks later, the underlying affection that had been blossoming was still there. 

The rows of chairs had long ago been magically removed and a growing crowd of guests had started to accumulate on the dance floor. Hermione admired the band’s music from her seat at the top table, while taking a moment for herself. The music had only recently changed to a slower tempo when a wizard approached the edge of the table. 

“Any chance you’re under obligation of a Binding Vow to dance with the next person who asks?”

Malfoy’s palm was lifted in her direction, an open invitation. She stared at it for a few seconds, but she already knew what her response would be.

“No, but I’ll accept anyway.”

After placing her hand into his, Malfoy led Hermione out of her seat and they stepped towards the dance floor among the crowd of other dancing couples. He rested one hand on the curve above her waist while Hermione laid hers atop his shoulder, letting the music guide them from there.

“You look beautiful,” he said, the sincerity evident in his open gaze only inches from hers.

Hermione felt the creeping formation of a blush. “Is this one an intended compliment or just another observation?”

Malfoy cracked a grin. “Depends on which you want it to be.”

They moved in time to the rhythm as Hermione continued to peer at the wizard who, at some point or another in her life, had stirred the whole gamut of emotions. For years, the mere thought of him had prompted nothing but bitterness and animosity. Even until recently, she hadn’t particularly liked him. But assessing him now, all she was reminded of was the serene way he had looked on top of Tower Bridge, the laughter he had caused during the trivia night, and the pounding inside her chest whenever he was near.

She glanced down before gnawing at the inside of her lip. “I’ve been thinking a lot about what happened…”

Malfoy slightly snorted. “I would expect nothing different.”

On the surface, he appeared calm, but based on the mild tension that now stiffened his shoulders, Hermione knew it was just a front. Throughout the war, he had learned to hide his emotions in order to survive — a quality he apparently still relied on from time to time. But Hermione didn’t want him to put up walls around her. They had already had to overcome so much.

She sucked in a breath, and upon exhaling, met his eyes directly. “Yes, you should have told me you knew about the vow, but conversely, I should have told you about it myself, so I can’t really stay mad at you. Yet in our time apart, there’s just one thing I can’t figure out.”

He tilted his head. “Which is?”

“Why did you tell me?” she asked. “You could have easily never revealed the truth.”

Something darkened in his gaze. “Is that what you were planning on doing? Never telling me?”

Her eyes dropped. “It’s something I’ve been battling with the past two weeks,” she confessed. “I’m not sure what I would have done, but I’d like to believe I would have told you. I just… hadn’t considered where I thought this was going yet.”

“Yes, well, I had,” Malfoy immediately responded, no trace of hesitancy or doubt in his tone. “And if we’re trying to build a relationship together, I’d prefer if it wasn’t founded on any secrets. From either of us.”

_A relationship._

The idea floated around in Hermione’s mind and a smile stretched across her lips, one thought becoming ever clearer. “I like this new Draco Malfoy.”

Malfoy chuckled. “What can I say? I’m a reformed man. Or maybe I’m just associating with too many Gryffindors lately?” He flashed a smile of his own. “Though, if given the chance, I’d like to spend even more time with one of them. So what do you say? One more fresh start with total transparency from the beginning?”

“I’m willing if you’re willing,” she said, feeling a tingle of anticipation spread through her. She quirked a taunting grin. “Should we confirm it with a vow?

Malfoy shook his head. “I’d much prefer to seal it with a kiss.”

He leaned in and pressed their lips together, the same sparks from a couple weeks ago still igniting inside Hermione’s chest. It was precisely as Ginny had said: she needed to open herself to new possibilities. And Hermione quite liked where this possibility could lead.

~*~*~

Harry grumbled beneath his breath as he and his new wife sat down for the first time since their first dance had concluded. He took a bite from his still half-eaten dinner then paused when he noticed something unexpected.

Across the marquee, presently seated at one of the guest tables, were Hermione and Malfoy next to each other, actually talking civilly. Hermione was chatting animatedly while Malfoy appeared immersed in whatever she was saying. When Harry looked more closely, he startled in surprise and had to clean his glasses to confirm he wasn’t seeing things, but it was true — their fingers were laced together atop the white tablecloth.

Harry glanced at Ginny. “I assume you had something to do with this?” He motioned his head to his long time friend and recently accepted acquaintance. 

“Me?” Ginny dropped her jaw in feigned surprise as a hand rested over her heart. “I only gave her some relationship advice!”

His eyebrows raised, believing his wife’s innocence less and less. “And what else? Because the last I saw them both, they were ignoring each other at my birthday party.”

“Nothing _really_ ,” Ginny insisted, but the suggestive lilt of her lips conveyed a different message. “I only noticed the Falcons seated at a table near us at the pub that night, used a wandless Sonorus Charm to mildly increase my voice, and hoped that the rest would play itself out.” She grinned. “Besides, she does look good in a sleeved bridesmaid’s dress, don’t you think?”

Harry snorted, shaking his head back and forth. “There are at least twenty different ways that could have ended poorly.”

“But it didn’t!” Ginny proudly announced. She then shrugged. “Hermione deserves a good guy, and I had a feeling they’d be a good match. After all the rambling I had to endure the past year about everything she _didn’t_ like in a partner, I’ve gotten a pretty clear sense in her taste. I knew Malfoy wanted to apologise to her, but I suspected he could be interested too. They just needed a little help getting there.”

And get there Hermione and Draco most certainly did. Two years later, it was their wedding that everyone attended.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading, and I really hope you enjoyed! Camp Nano starts tomorrow, and I'll be working on writing my next multi-chapter story for you all to enjoy :)
> 
> Until then, you can find me on Tumblr ([niffizzle](https://niffizzle.tumblr.com/)) or you can check out my other stories, including Somewhere Down the Line that is recently complete.
> 
> Kudos and comments are much appreciated and bring all the joy 💙


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